I am no Courtier, no fawning Dog of State,
To lick and kiss the Hand that buffets me:
Nor can I smile upon my Guest, and praise
His Stomach, when I know he feeds on Poison,
And Death disguis'd sits grinning at my Table.
- Dr. George Sewell

Not a courtier, although they wear their faces to the bent of the
king's looks, hath a heart that is not glad at the thing they
scowl at.
- William Shakespeare

There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.
- William Shakespeare, The Life of King Henry the Eighth
(Wolsey at III, ii)

At the throng'd levee bends the venal tribe:
With fair but faithless smiles each varnish'd o'er,
Each smooth as those that mutually deceive,
And for their falsehood each despising each.
- James Thomson (1), Liberty (pt. V, l. 190)